


The Copper and the Thief

by Punch119



Category: Welcome to the Punch (2013)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Closeted Character, Fluff and Angst, From Sex to Love, M/M, Pre-Movie(s), Romance, Slash pairing, Smut, Spooning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2119803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punch119/pseuds/Punch119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Previously titled Cops and Robbers.</p><p>What happens when the man you accidentally fall for is on the other side of the law?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Passing in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is my head-canon/backstory that I believe leads to what transpires in the film. I love Welcome to the Punch and these two characters very much, and I just hope I do them some justice here.
> 
> Tags will be added as the content requires. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

There was a chill in the air that night, as Max Lewinsky stood outside his apartment building finishing a cigarette after one of his more disappointing work-induced blind dates. The wall he leaned against was damp from the rain they’d had earlier in the evening, but Max didn’t feel it through his coat. The date had not gone badly per se, and normally Max would count not bad as good, but in this instance, Max had wanted it to go very good. 

Max had really _tried_ on this date. He tried to paint himself in a flattering light, tried to be charismatic and attentive. But mostly he tried to hide the fact that he had no interest in women, and he just hoped that the lack of chemistry between them hadn’t been his fault.

Well, no interest wasn't entirely accurate. Max had an interest in women. He enjoyed their company, he didn't mind kissing them or occasionally taking one to bed, and he certainly didn't mind how dating one kept the well-meaning but overbearing women in his precinct from fretting over his personal life and trying to set him up with their single sisters/nieces/cousins/hairdressers. Or, in some cases, with themselves. 

It also stopped the gossip-mongers, of which there were many in Max's workplace, from spreading rumors that he liked men. Max did like men, but he hated rumors. And in his precinct, rumors about cops’ personal lives spread like wildfire. If he were outed as gay, Max just knew that no one would ever see him as just a good cop. He’d be a good gay cop, or worse, just a gay cop.

An occasional date and even a casual relationship here and there, was worth it to keep up pretenses. He worked so much, girlfriends usually got tired of waiting around and left on their own as soon as the novelty of a new relationship wore off. Max stayed safely in the closet, and the only talk that went around about him was how dedicated an officer he was. It had worked out well so far.

But there hadn't been a girl in nearly a year, and Max was beginning to worry. He’d run out of excuses for turning down set-up offers. So when he accepted this one, Max had gone into the date hoping Tricia was someone he'd be able to tolerate enough to fake it for a few months. But this girl was smart. She wasn't blinded by his bright blue eyes or his boyish charm. She asked him about work, how much time he devoted to it, and pressed him for details. When Max admitted that his goal was to become one of the youngest detectives in the squad, Tricia smiled and wished him good luck and that was pretty much that. 

Max walked home alone, hunching his shoulders against the cold, trying to ignore that part of him that craved companionship. He’d been without a girlfriend for nearly a year, but it had been even longer since he'd done anything with a man. His work required him to go full-speed all the time, always in control, always on his game. Women typically expected the same. For Max, being with a man was different and he missed being able to shut himself off. He missed letting someone else run the show for a while. 

Cheap one night stands stopped holding their charm a while ago, and there was no way Max was going to attempt an actual relationship at this point in his career. So he did without. He didn’t usually take that time to think about how much he missed it, but tonight he did. Part of Max resented his job and how it required him to deny himself so many things. But he’d made the choices. Becoming detective was his goal. Once he achieved it, maybe he’d slow down a little. Maybe he’d think about a relationship. 

And so it was that Max was disappointed, frustrated, and more than a little bit horny as he took the last few drags of his cigarette out on the sidewalk. He’d have gone in, but Smoking In The Common Areas Is Not Allowed, (so the note slid passive-aggressively under his door a while ago reminded him). At least the streets were empty. Not many people braved the outdoors at midnight in the middle of January in London.

Max took his last puff and was about to stamp out the cigarette when he heard footsteps. His ears, trained by years on the force, listened and observed on instinct. Before anyone came into sight, he already knew it was a man. A tall man, judging from the length of his strides. Max had no interest in making eye contact, and had already decided not to look up when the man finally stepped into the soft light cast by the streetlamp nearest his building. 

He looked up anyway. And thank God he did, for the man was gorgeous. Tall was an understatement. The man was easily half a foot taller than Max and slender in such a way that he looked equal parts graceful and powerful. While he walked with his capped head down, he gave off an air of privacy rather than insecurity. He didn't want people to notice him. 

As he passed not five feet in front of Max, he turned and glanced his way. Caught staring, Max was, but he didn’t care. He only wished the light were brighter, so he could make out more of the man’s features. His forehead creased sternly over an elegantly long, straight nose, and his lips were pursed thin, his jaw square and set. As handsome a face as it was, it was unreadable in the two seconds the man stayed in sight. He turned away and walked past with no break in his long-legged stride. 

Not interested, most likely. Ah, well, Max thought as he dropped his cigarette onto the ground and stamped it out. It was for the best. He really didn't need the hassle. But his eyes followed the man as he walked away, and when those long legs ducked into an apartment building just down the block, Max grinned. A neighbor? Well now, that could be promising.

Not quite as down anymore, but even more horny, Max retreated upstairs to his flat. For the first time, he regretted not having windows that faced the street.

\-----------

The first time Jacob Sternwood saw the guy in front of the apartment down the street, he started thinking about moving. A move wouldn't have been all that difficult. The flat he was holed up in was never meant to be permanent. In fact, it was one of five flats he kept under lease in various parts of the city, each of them as non-descript and anonymous as the next.

As one of Britain’s most notorious bank thieves, Jake needed options. He needed routes that would provide quick getaways and leave no traces. None of his apartments were kept furnished above the bare minimum, and he could be ready to abandon this one in under an hour, should the need arise.

Does seeing a man whom Jake would describe as irresistible, who potentially lived on the same block qualify as such a need? His initial reaction was yes. Granted, it was dark. He'd only caught a fleeting glimpse of that tousled brown hair and those impossibly vivid blue eyes. But it stirred something in Jake's mind (and his pants), and that stirring is what left him nervous.

At forty years old, with nearly two decades and some three dozen jobs under his belt, Jake was just starting to make real headway on what was to be his final heist. The one that would pay off so big, he could retire. The last thing he needed now was to lose his focus because some guy down the street got his dick hard. 

The police were hot for him, he’d been on their most wanted list for years now. But Jake was good at what he did. They knew his name, they had his rap sheet fairly complete, from what Jake knew, but the police had no idea how to find him or how to stop him. They didn't even know what he looked like, which was a shame in Jake's eyes. He always thought he’d look smashing in a mugshot.

Keeping to himself, avoiding distractions and temptations, it wasn't just good practice, it was essential to his survival.

The problem was, he'd just spent the evening with Roy Edwards, his best friend and business partner. He and Roy were close, had been for a long time, and Roy liked to nag Jake about his hermitic tendencies. Unlike Jake, who preferred solitude, Roy's lived his life surrounded by people. He was married, had three kids, and owned a car dealership that employed a number of men and women. That Roy was able to balance all of that and still keep up his involvement in the jobs they ran together, impressed Jake to no end.

They were cut from different cloths, and Jake had long ago come to terms with that. He enjoyed living a quiet life, uncluttered by unnecessary things and unnecessary people. The thrill of planning and carrying out his jobs sustained him, despite Roy's objections. 

The fact that Roy had shown up to his flat unannounced because Karen had thrown him out after a fight didn't make his argument that Jake needed a love life any more convincing. And pointing out that that it was actually a common occurrence worked well to shut Roy up for a while. But by the time they got to the pub and his friend had a few beers in him, the topic came back up and Jake had no choice but to contemplate the state of his life. 

Was he lonely? Roy seemed to think so. He looked at the stark, undecorated flat Jake lived in and saw man who made no connections with anyone or anything. He listened to Jake's protestations and heard a man in denial. 

Roy’s concerns were valid, but Jake dismissed them just the same. What was a little loneliness at this point in his life? Nothing Jake couldn’t deal with. Nothing he couldn’t ignore. They had seven months until the target date of this job, and there was no reason for it not to go as smoothly as the others had gone. Once he was in the clear, Jake would have all the time in the world to get his personal life together. 

The entire way home, his flipped up collar and thick cap kept him warm and anonymous. But the clothes did nothing to shield his mind from returning again and again to Roy’s conversation. It weighed on him now, the fact that nothing more than an empty apartment and a cold bed awaited him. He barely remembered the last time he’d brought someone home. Years ago, when his need for privacy outweighed his need for companionship, he quit going to gay bars. Rent boys lost their appeal once Jake started to feel lecherously old next to them. 

Deep down, in a place that Jake found increasingly easy to ignore as the years went by, he missed having a warm body to sleep next to. He missed being able to cook meals for more than one person. And underneath all that longing, in a place Jake refused to acknowledge existed at all, he feared that his ability to love someone may have already shriveled up and died from neglect.

Lost in his thoughts, Jake managed to keep his head down nearly the whole way home. 

Nearly. 

He was far from drunk, but it must've been the alcohol lingering in his system that made him break protocol as he passed the apartment down the street. Jake smelled the cigarette smoke and without thinking, he glanced up at the source of it. The man was short, his cheeks covered in scruff, but it was his eyes that caught Jake’s attention. They watched him unabashedly, and while Jake typically shied away from such scrutiny, he found he wasn’t bothered at all by it now. 

Less than a few seconds he’d seen him and though he did not allow himself to stop, or even slow his stride, already Jake felt drawn to this man. Maybe it was the musing he’d been doing. Allowing himself to admit to loneliness made the first person he came across seem the ideal one to alleviate it. Maybe the man gave off some sort of vibe that Jake’s subconscious picked up on. In any case, those vibrant blue eyes, however alluring they were, were something Jake couldn’t afford to be captivated by.

He'd have to move. Plain and simple. This was a temptation with which Jake was unwilling to trust himself.

As soon as he got through his door, forgoing the lights on purpose, Jake pulled open the curtains to inspect the view he had of the stoop down the block. It was a great view, only the spot was empty now. The guy had left.

Jake’s fingers itched to start packing. His mind screamed at him to flee now, tonight. But his heart raced with a thrill and anticipation that he usually only felt just before a job. He paced, more frantically than he’d have cared to admit, across the floor in front of the window. His head spun, planning the move while his heart focused on the possibility of seeing that man again. Eventually, his energy ran out, and his heart managed to convince his mind that moving, especially tonight, may just be a bit rash. 

Jake didn't even know if the man lived there. He could've been waiting for a friend, or even just stopped randomly as he walked toward some other destination. Jake had lived here for two months without seeing the guy. There was no need to give in to panic just because he saw someone once.

Someone pretty, yes. But someone who was almost certainly straight or otherwise unavailable and therefore no risk to Jake’s life at all. Someone who may be perfectly safe to admire from afar. 

Someone he likely wouldn't ever see again, even from afar. 

Damn, if that wasn't disappointing.


	2. Up Against the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up.

The second time Jake met the man from the apartment down the street, he ended up pushing him up against a wall outside a pub and kissing him until they were both breathless. Then he walked away and licked his lips, promising himself he’d never think about him again. 

It was Roy's fault that time, too. Earlier in the night, he'd asked Jake to meet him at his favorite bar. It was Jake's least favorite. The crowds were noisy, the live music noisier, but the waitresses loved Roy and flirted shamelessly with him. Jake had tried to beg off, but Roy insisted he needed to get out. Said he'd noticed now distracted Jake had been, warned him that he needed to get his head back in the game. 

It was true. Jake had been out of sorts for weeks. As much as he told himself that he really didn't want to see that man again, he found a million and one reasons to look for him. He jogged every day. He moved his worktable closer to the window. (Just to get better light, he'd reasoned to that part of him that rolled its eyes as he shoved the table over.) And though he spent more time gazing out the window than he did working, Jake hadn't seen him again. 

When Roy rang and called him out on his behavior, Jake realized he'd been wasting way too much time on this stranger. He was better than that. Angry at himself, he vowed to stop. 

He’d even moved his table back as soon as he’d hung up the phone.

The club was closer to Roy's house than his. Jake had to take the tube to get there. So as he casually scanned the crowd, waiting for Roy to return from the phone call he’d stepped outside to take, Jake wasn't expecting at all to see the very man who'd been haunting him for all that time. Yet there he was, sitting with a group of people at a table across the bar. 

Jake was instantly torn. Stay or flee. This man, as fucking tempting as he was, carried with him the potential to ruin everything. Watching him come and go from the safety of his apartment window was one thing. The temptation was lesser with three stories and a building separating them. Here, in this setting, conversation was possible. Physical contact was possible. So much more than that was possible, and Jake didn’t feel ready for that.

There was so much riding on the success of this job. Not just his retirement plans. They had financial backers now, investors who'd ensure a fate worse than prison if he fucked it up. 

Then the man looked his way and all thoughts of leaving, well... left. When they caught each other's eyes, the other man held it, gave him a crooked, shy smile.

He remembered Jake. 

Under Jake's steely gaze, the man licked his lips and stood up. So fixated on him was Jake, that he visibly started when Roy passed through his field of vision, momentarily blocking his view of the other side of the club. 

Roy took his seat next to Jake and by the time Jake could surreptitiously glance over again, the guy had sat back down and was engaged in conversation with one of his tablemates. 

"That was Karen," Apparently oblivious to Jake’s inner turmoil, Roy went on, explaining the phone call he had stepped outside to make. “Lily's sick and she'll have my balls if I'm not home in ten minutes."

"That's a shame. I hope she's okay." Jake replied, returning his focus to his friend. He really did like Roy's kids. He didn't get to see them very often, but they all adored him. "Uncle Jake!" they'd squeal and demand that he fly them around like aeroplanes, his height allowing them to touch the ceilings. It was always great fun. 

"Yeah. She'll probably be sound asleep by the time I get home. You want to walk out with me? Your station is on the way." 

Jake thought it over. Leave and go through another few weeks of longing and resentment? Or stay and maybe have a conversation. Maybe the guy would be a complete berk and it’d get whatever this fascination was out of his system. 

"I think I'll stay." Jake held up his half empty beer bottle. "I've got to finish this, and you know, this band isn't half bad."

Roy raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on how very out of character Jake’s decision was. "Suit yourself, mate. Call me when you've got schematics to show me."

Jake nodded and Roy was off. Not to appear too eager, Jake first flagged down their waitress and ordered another beer before searching out his reason for staying. The man still sat, chatting away to his companions. Jake was just about to get to kicking himself for being so foolish when his guy got up again and left the table.

He didn't head, or even look in Jake's direction, however. He went to the restroom. Then to the bar. Then made his way toward the front door. Jake's heart sank against his will. If he left, would Jake give chase? He /really/ didn't want to have to pursue this guy. If Jake simply left himself available, it wouldn't necessarily be his fault the other man approached. But to pursue the guy was a level of active involvement that Jake didn't think he was comfortable with. 

Luckily, he never made it to the door. Jake watched with growing confusion as the guy, moving purposefully, skirted a few tables and made some turns and ended up, finally, at Jake's table. 

Jake grinned up at him. "Took the scenic route, did you?" 

Was that a blush that spread across those sweet cheeks? Charming. 

The man was /young/. He looked like a kid, mid-twenties at the most. If Jake had been a man of strict morals, he'd tell him to keep walking. 

He wasn’t, of course, so he stayed quiet, waited for the man to speak. It didn’t take long.

"I saw you, didn't I? A few weeks ago outside my apartment."

So he /did/ live there! Three weeks of coming and going and Jake had missed him every time? Oh well, Jake thought. He was a bank robber, not a spy. His skills didn't lie in surveillance. 

"Possibly." Jake feigned ignorance, not wanting to give away that he'd been thinking of little else besides his face since that night. That mouth, though. To see it up close, the way it pursed and flexed when he spoke made Jake want to taste it. The fact that this man remembered him from that two-second non-encounter felt pretty promising that he was interested, too. “I really can’t remember.”

"Why'd your boyfriend leave?" 

Jake gawped a little at the boldness of his question and at the wrongness of his assumption, but he recovered quickly. He lifted a brow and gave an amused smirk. "What makes you think he's my boyfriend?"

At that, the other balked, and stammered nervously. "Oh, I didn't, uh, mean to assume. I just thought, um, I thought -"

Well that's cute, Jake thought, but he raised his hand and put the poor guy out of his misery. "Relax. It's fine. He's a friend, that's all."

The man nodded, but fell silent. He glanced back toward his table and Jake got the idea that maybe he didn't want anyone there to know he had come over here.

"Would you like to take a seat?" he offered, figuring he'd be less conspicuous if he were sitting. Well, at least he’d be less visible. After a moments hesitation, the boy did. 

"What's your name?" Referring to him as ‘the man’ was getting tiresome.

"Max Lewinsky," he replied. His tongue darted out to swipe across his lower lip as it lifted to a grin. "And yours?"

"John. John Roscoe." The pseudonym rolled easily out of Jake's mouth. It was his most developed identity, complete with a manufactured credit and work history. He'd paid a lot for it. He didn’t necessarily want to give it away to Max, but it was the one he had that came closest to his real name. "But my friends call me Jake."

If Jake was going to hear Max screaming his name out as he came, the possibility of which was becoming greater with each second, it just had to be his /real/ name. The move was risky. He hadn't told anyone his real name in years.

"Jake, then." Max's wide smile and the way Jake's name sounded when he said it, made it worth the risk. "It's nice to finally meet you."

The waitress interrupted them then, setting the beer he'd forgotten he’d ordered onto the table. 

Jake offered, "Can I get you something, Max?" 

"No, no, I'm fine. Thanks." 

The waitress left and Jake wet his throat with the fresh beer. It struck Jake how strange a happenstance it was that Max should end up in the same bar Jake was in, especially nowhere near their homes. He wondered if Max had followed him.

"What are you doing all the way out here? It's a little far from home."

"My co-workers invited me." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder back toward his table. "Someone in my department just had a baby. They're celebrating," he added with a roll of his eyes.

"Won't they wonder where you are?" Jake asked as he lifted the bottle to take another swig.

"Nah. They probably don't even notice I'm gone. For coppers, this group is really unobservant." 

It was truly a testament to Jake's ability to keep himself calm and collected under stress that he did not spit his mouthful of beer out across the table. He simply paused mid-swig, set his beer down slowly, swallowed, then asked in a completely even, almost uninterested tone.

"You're a cop?"

Max nodded and everything in Jake's head went full-stop. 

Well, shit. All bets were off now. If it had been risky, even stupid, to get involved with this guy before, now that Jake knew he was a cop, it was downright suicidal.

"I'm just about to make detective," Max boasted. 

Jake kept up the pretense of their conversation, but his mind was spinning, trying to come up with an exit strategy that would leave the least amount of impression in Max's memory. He needed Max to forget all about him.

"Kinda young, aren't you?"

"I'm twenty-eight," Max replied defensively, sitting up straighter, as if that would make him look any older. "Second generation police officer. It's in my blood, and I'm good at my job." 

Jake merely hummed his agreeance and took a long swig from his beer. 

“What do you do?” Max asked, unaware that his conversation partner was currently in a state of inner crisis.

“I’m in banking,” Jake replied. “It’s about the most boring job a man can have. Listen I -”

"So this is where you ran off to!"

Both men were startled by the woman who appeared at their table. Blond, pretty, she addressed Max with familiarity. One of his party, Jake surmised. 

The change in Max was subtle, but even having only known him a few minutes, Jake noticed it. He suddenly oozed a whole different kind of anxiety.

"Yeah, sorry Shelly," Max said, then gestured toward Jake. Jake recoiled slightly, uneasy with the reality that he was about to make the acquaintance of yet another police officer. "This is John. He's an old friend of the family who I haven't seen in years. I saw him over here and I had to come say hi."

The lie rolled off Max’s tongue with such apparent ease. Wow. Okay. An impressed, but confused Jake breathed an internal sigh of relief. He had no idea why Max would lie, but he certainly was grateful. Also, this was a great time to make his exit.

He stood and smiled at the woman as he grabbed his coat. To Max, he offered, "It was great catching up with you Max. I'll let you get back to your party now. Best of luck with your promotion."

With one last tight smile, Jake turned and made for the door. He didn't look back.

—

Max's heart fell as soon as Shelly showed up at the table. As much as he'd built up Tall, Bald, and Handsome in his head over the past few weeks, seeing him in person was so much better. 

And now he knew his name. Jake was much less cumbersome a nickname than the one he'd given him.

Max had worried that he'd never see him again. Or that he would, but he'd be straight or taken. But he was neither of those things. He was single, and seemingly interested. And that dulcet voice. Every word Jake spoke had felt like it was whispered seductively in his ear. Quite a feat, what with the noise level in the pub.

But then Shelly appeared and Jake fled and Max stood there, unsure of what had just happened. 

"Go back to the table, I'll be right there," he said to Shelly and waited for her to nod her acknowledgment before he took off out the door.

Those long legs of his had carried Jake nearly two blocks away. Max had to jog to catch up, but he was glad not to make this confrontation right outside the pub where others could hear it. 

"Oi! Wait up!" Max wasn't sure he would hear him, or listen even if he did. He didn't stop, but the taller man's stride slowed and Max, encouraged, picked up his speed. Finally, he grabbed Jake's arm and pulled him to a stop.

Jake's reaction was immediate, as though he were acting on reflex. He spun around, twisting the front of Max's shirt around his fingers. And before Max could get out his "What the fuck are you doing?" he found himself shoved against a wall with an arm pressed to his throat and Jake very nearly towering over him.

The street was empty and for a few moments all Max heard was Jake's breath, heavy from exertion and adrenaline. His own sounded the same. He should be worried. He should be pulling from his police training and figuring a way out of this dangerous situation. But Max wasn't doing any of that. He simply stood looking up at Jake, trying to breathe through his compressed airway, hands clutching the arm Jake had pressed up against him. He didn't fear for his life, he feared that Jake might feel his cock hardening against his leg. 

If Jake did, he didn't show any indication. He simply sighed after a few moments and stepped back, dropping his hands away from Max. 

"Go back to the pub, Max. Be with your friends"

Max, leaning heavily on the wall, rubbed at his neck. He already missed Jake's hands on him, and his thoughts were distracted by trying to shut down that voice in his head that was telling him to stop being stupid and get the fuck out of there.

"I'd forgotten you were so tall..." Max mused.

This earned him a growl and Jake turned to continue on his way. 

"Aw, come on mate! What are you running from?" 

"Not running," Jake called over his shoulder. "Going home."

Max trotted to catch up with him, but didn't grab hold this time. "Why's it gotta be alone?"

Jake stopped. So did Max, bracing himself, but Jake simply looked at him. Was that regret in his eyes?

"It just does. I'm sorry, Max."

Max frowned back, unwilling to accept that he'd misread Jake's signals. He said nothing.

For a few moments, they both stood, glaring at each other. 

Max opened his mouth to break the silence, but he was interrupted before any words came out. All he managed was a quiet "oof" as Jake once again pushed him against a wall. 

Only this time it wasn't Jake's arm cutting off his air, it was his mouth. And then his tongue as it snaked forcefully between his lips. Though bewildered by the abrupt change in events, Max kissed Jake back eagerly, meeting every bite of his teeth, every twist and turn of his tongue. His persistent fingers slid easily through Jake’s unzipped jacket, and under the hem of his shirt, seeking bare skin. By the time Jake pulled back, Max was weak-kneed, flushed, and gasping for breath. 

Jake's hand rested on the wall above Max's shoulder, his head still hung close. Wanting more of what he’d just tasted, Max closed the gap to kiss him again. Jake reciprocated, but only for a quick moment before he pulled back once more, away from the wall and away from Max.

When he looked up to meet Max's eyes, a flash of longing passed through his expression. But it was gone before Max could be sure he saw it, replaced by a cold, stern determination. He'd made his decision.

Max still didn't understand, but Jake's next words weren't a surprise.

"Don't follow me."

Then he was gone.

And that time, Max didn't.


	3. Hot Pursuit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk about a LATE update!! My goodness. This was actually written months ago, but life happened and I just never had time or motivation to work on it. But this story lives very vibrantly in my head and my heart and even though I wasn't typing, I was ALWAYS writing it in my head. Over and over. The next update shouldn't take nearly as long as this one, and I hope the small handful of people who've read so far enjoy this chapter. I had much fun writing it!
> 
> It hasn't really been beta'd, so if you find any mistakes/typos, I would not be upset if you pointed them out!
> 
> Also, I plan on reworking the first two chapters a bit. I was lucky enough to meet the writer/director of Punch, Eran Creevy, in March, and received a copy of the original WttP shooting script. Needless to say, it opened my eyes a bit more, and I need to update some things. So don't be alarmed if you see some changes!
> 
> \---------

Jake didn't go home that night. He didn't trust Max not to be there, waiting for him on the sidewalk, begging to go up with him. He didn't trust himself to say no if Max did. 

Damn that guy. The fucking nerve he had to chase after him. To be so fucking desirable. 

He just _had_ to be a cop. He could have been anything. A chef, a school teacher, a fucking postman. Anything else and Jake would've been pounding him into his mattress instead of facing yet another night alone on it.

But Max was a cop. And Jake just wasn't that desperate. 

The kiss had been amazing. Max, so eager, even after Jake told him to go away. He'd tasted of cigarettes and alcohol, a combination Jake usually hated, but in Max’s mouth, it was divine. He loved the way Max's hands found their way under his shirt so quickly, so much aggression housed in those blunt fingertips. He could still feel where they’d pressed into his flesh.

If Jake had been drunker, it might've lasted longer. He might've shoved Max into the nearest alley and fucked him right there against a filthy wall like a common prostitute. At the very least, he would’ve taken him home.

Thank God he wasn't that drunk. 

Thank fucking God he’d retained his composure and walked away and thank God Max didn't follow him.

At the tube station, Jake took the first train that arrived and ended up on the north end of the city. His flat there was close to the station. It boasted the same minimalistic style as his other places, though the surfaces were all covered in a fine layer of dust. Tomorrow, he'd clean it up and move his equipment here. Borrow a car from Roy so he only had to make one trip to the old apartment, maybe he'd even cancel his lease then and there.

He'd be done with the flat and with Max. 

The conviction left Jake feeling less uneasy, and it was impossible to deny the disappointment that came along with it. He hadn't reacted that strongly to someone in a long time. That said something about Max. Said something about the potential there. But Jake wouldn't ever find out what. 

Cold water splashed in his face in the tiny bathroom sink did little to clear away Jake’s lingering arousal. The shower helped a little more. Jake was able to close his eyes under the steaming spray and jerk off to the memory of how solid Max's body had felt under his, how the little moans that escaped his throat had sounded so wanting. Jake growled as he came, his hot seed hitting the tile before the water washed it away. 

Weary and wanting nothing more than some decent sleep, Jake climbed into bed and lay there a while, lamenting. It took a while for sleep to claim him, what with Max's face haunting him from behind his eyelids every time he closed them. 

\-----------------

Jake called Roy early the next morning to ask for a car. Handy, having a friend and partner in crime who dealt in cars. Who dealt legally in cars.

"What do you need it for?" Roy's demanded, his voice suspicious through the phone.

"I've got to clear out of the flat." 

"Why? What's happened?"

"I was recognized at the pub last night. A neighbor. Just after you left," Jake hedged. He didn't want to tell Roy the whole truth.

A heavy sigh came over the line. "How bad was it?"

"Not bad. But I'd feel better getting out of there. I'll be up in my flat in Islington. The neighborhood is better here anyway." 

Better in that Jake didn't want to screw any of the neighbors.

"Alright. You need help?"

"Nah, I think I can get it. I'll be by in an hour for the car, yeah?"

"Yeah." 

 

In the car, Jake drove past his building a few times. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for. It's not like Max would be standing back out on the stoop waiting for him.

Finally, feeling silly but no more at ease, Jake parked the car around the block and made a beeline to his front door. Once inside, with the door bolted behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Absolutely ridiculous, Jake chided himself. He was behaving as though the police were actively chasing him. The chances of Max seeing him in the thirty seconds he took to walk round the corner were astronomical. Jake reminded himself it wasn't fear he felt, but reluctance. He just didn't want to get tangled up in Max's life any more than he had been last night. That's all. 

Then, like he had something to prove to himself, Jake purposely took his time. He refused to let any sense of anxiety or panic in, and he just relaxed. He cooked himself a nice breakfast of steak and eggs. He put on the radio while he packed, taking the time to organize the various papers and tuck away the computer components carefully. He'd bring the car around to the front and carry the boxes out after dark.

He didn't look out the window once.

All in all, it was a good day. Jake felt accomplished and at peace with his decision. The sun was setting and other than one bottle of wine and a glass, everything was packed. The furniture would stay. As was Jake’s habit, because he never knew when he’d need a place to crash or hide out, he’d keep the apartment move-in ready until he decided whether or not to keep the lease. 

With another hour until complete dark, Jake opened the wine and took a seat on the couch. He sent Roy a text letting him know the packing was done and he'd be out of the apartment within the hour, then he opened up his phone's browser to surf the news headlines.

Twenty minutes later, he stumbled upon an article about a company in the very building they were about to rob. When the knock sounded at the door, Jake assumed it was Roy and in his excitement to show his friend the story he'd found, Jake pulled open his front door without thinking.

"Roy, you won't believe this story I -" 

Jake's sentence came to an abrupt halt when Max brushed by him and into the apartment.

What? How? Jake had worried about running into Max on the street. He hadn’t considered the possibility that he'd come knocking on his door. How'd he even know which door was Jake’s?

"Max, what are you doing here?"

"Roy? That’s your boyfriend, right? You expecting him?" Jake opened his mouth to protest, but Max, who'd noticed the boxes, interrupted. "Are you moving?" 

"No. I mean, yes. Roy isn't my boyfriend, as I said before. But yes, I am moving," Jake answered in a voice much calmer than he thought himself capable. He let the door swing closed and he took a few steps, following Max into the living room.

"Oh." Max nodded, then, "So, where are you moving to?" 

Look at this fucker, Jake bristled, pretending he’s making small talk.

Jake shook his head, dismissing Max's question, trying to dismiss the entire conversation. As hot as Max looked, standing there in his living room, Jake couldn't lose sight of the fact that there was a police officer in his flat. 

"You can't be here."

The police officer ignored that and sat down on the couch and started talking. 

"So we got a call the other day. Domestic violence. This prick hauled off and punched his girlfriend at a public park."

"Max..." Jake warned quietly. He took another step forward, but Max kept talking.

"So someone calls us, we show up to arrest the guy. It was his kid's birthday party. Can you believe that? The girlfriend was in tears, pleading with us not to take him in. Her eye was all black and swollen and she's begging us to let him stay."

"Did you?" Jake figured he might as well let Max get whatever this is out of his system before he kicked him out.

"Fuck no. Wanker was belligerent and high on something. So we took him in. Booked him, all of it routine."

Jake really did enjoy the sound of Max's voice. That east London accent was strong. But Jake’s nerves wouldn't let him relax. He needed Max out of there.

"So today, they granted him bail. And do you know who came and bailed him out?"

Jake stared expectantly at Max for a few moments until he realized he was supposed to guess. "The girlfriend?" 

"No! _Another_ girl! This arsehole has another girl show up and bail him out. And she's hysterical, fretting and fussing over him and kissing on him and and you know we all wanted to vomit for what a show they were putting on." 

"That's...terrible."

Max stood up then, and approached Jake, stopping a foot away and meeting his eyes with a defiant glare.

"So I think to myself, as I’m watching this fucking spectacle, why does a waste of skin like that have _two_ people crying over him and I can't even get you to give me the fucking time of day?"

"Max..."

"No! You tell me why. You have someone? You're not into guys? You're not into me? What?"

"It's complicated." Jake said forcefully, though he knew very well how vague an answer it was.

"It didn't feel complicated last night when you had your tongue halfway down my throat."

He was determined. Jake had to give him that. Ballsy, too. He'd make a great detective. And those eyes, blue and shining with both anger and want. They seemed to disarm Jake effortlessly. Jake had no experience being pursued like this. 

“That was a mistake.” Jake swallowed thickly, then, desperate to change the subject and to know how Max had found him, he nodded toward his front door. “How’d you know which door was mine?”

“I started at the end of the hall and worked my way down. It only took five tries.” Max replied. Jake blanched, but Max didn’t notice, continuing and sounding very proud of himself. “You know, not a single one of your neighbors even knew you lived here?”

Shit. That was five neighbors who have had Jake described to them in a very unusual, very memorable way. Five people who would definitely remember him now. All the more reason to move. 

Eyes bright and lips pursed, Max watched Jake as he mentally cataloged exactly what sort of shit Max had gotten him into. Frustration flared, but still, Jake wanted him. 

He /was/ moving. Everything was packed, ready to leave. Jake could walk out of there at any moment and he’d be untraceable, even to Max. Why not take advantage of this situation first?

One night wouldn't hurt, would it? Hell, if Max was only here for sex, maybe he’d leave immediately and it wouldn't even be the whole night.

Jake’s usually dormant hormones had kicked in the second Max walked in, and now, as he seriously considered doing this, they flooded him. Desire careened dangerously through his system, aided by his rapid heart rate, making whatever route that led to getting Max into bed seem entirely rational. 

One night. Amazing sex. Then he'd be gone.

No. It was a terrible idea. Jake’s sense of self-preservation kicked back in, and he resented being coerced into considering fucking a cop. 

Didn’t he?

Could Max sense the turmoil raging inside him? Is that why he kept inching forward, despite Jake’s resistance? 

“Max, please. You need to leave.” Jake squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need to open them to know Max hadn’t moved.

“Give me a reason to.”

Frustrated, Jake growled softly, more at himself than anything. There were a million and twelve reasons Max should leave, but Jake couldn’t think of one. Well, not one that wasn’t way too honest.

“What do you want, Max?” Jake implored. “Whatever it is you’re after, I can’t give it to you.”

“What /I/ want?” Max barked a laugh, but instead of moving away, as his derisive laughter might’ve suggested he would, he moved closer to Jake. Close enough Jake had to lower his chin to look at him. “I wasn’t the one shoving you up against the wall last night. Don’t put it all on me. Don’t tell me you don’t want it, too.”

At this distance, Jake could smell him. It would take but a tilt of his head and he’d have his lips on Max again. His lust was a caged tiger, barely restrained and Max kept pick, pick, picking at the lock, oblivious to the danger he was about to set free. 

Jake shook his head. This is why he stayed away from people. 

Then Max touched him. A hand on his chest, just above his stomach, the warmth of it going right through his thin t-shirt. Jake's breath stuttered. Arousal and more than a little anger saturated his bloodstream, making it hard for him to think. Half of him wanted to shove Max bodily out the door and slam it in his face, while the other half wanted to shove him to the bed and fuck him senseless. 

As it was, all Jake could do was stand there, practically panting from the exertion of trying to resist. Surely Max saw it. Surely that’s why he kept pressing. 

"You're moving. I get that. I don't want anything serious anyway. I work a lot. No time for much else. Give me tonight. I promise, I won’t ask for anything more." Max took on a pleading tone and Jake’s resistance further crumbled. 

Jake glowered, but he did nothing to remove Max’s hand. As resentful as he felt, Jake was just about done denying himself. 

“You’ve no idea what you’re asking for.” Jake had no idea what he’d be willing to give.

"Just...take me to bed." Max's fingers curled around Jake's shirt when he added a breathless "/Please/."

His voice dripped with need and want and it was more than Jake's willpower could take. He snapped. He closed the gap between them and, in a flash, grabbed Max’s face and tilted it up, kissing him hard. There was nothing hesitant about the kiss, nothing gentle. Jake pressed his thumbs into Max’s cheeks until his jaw fell slack and Jake pushed his tongue through, claiming his mouth. Whether the resulting groan that emitted from Max’s throat was a complaint or encouragement, Jake neither knew, nor cared.

Max hadn’t barged into his apartment wanting to be romanced or even seduced. Jake intended to do neither.

Jake recognized the underlying current of anger, but he was too far lost in a haze of lust to care much about it. And Max didn’t resist. Quite the opposite, he met every swipe of Jake’s tongue, every nip of his teeth. His own hands pulled at Jake’s shirt with just as much insistence as Jake tore at his. 

Seemed neither of them were in the mood for gentle.

In a move that could have been considered strong-arming if it weren’t for the passionate kissing that happened concurrently, Jake got them to his bedroom. Their shirts disappeared somewhere along the way, and their pants and shoes were hastily disposed of at the bedside. Once they were both nude, Jake pushed Max none too gently onto the bed, where he fell with a soft grunt. Jake smirked and looked down at the wide-eyed Max, moving to climb atop him when he was halted by Max’s hand placed firmly on his chest. 

Jake growled softly, but obediently ceased his movement. 

“Wait,” Max instructed, looking sheepish as he ducked out from under Jake and leaned down to pluck his pants up off the floor. Jake was just about to ask what he was rifling through his pockets for when Max pulled out a condom and a small bottle of lube and held them up with a small, but unmistakably triumphant grin. 

“God damned Boy Scout...” Jake tried to sound irritated, but he couldn’t help the smirk. 

“I didn’t want there to be a reason we couldn’t,” Max replied with a shrug and laid out the items neatly on the bed next to them. Jake didn’t know whether this was evidence of Max’s brilliance or his derangement, but then Max pulled him back into another kiss, and he decided once again, he didn’t care. 

Aggressive once more, Jake deepened the kiss, pushing until Max was reclined again. He used that momentum and an arm around Max's waist to move him up until he was settled against the pillows with Jake settled between his legs. 

Propped on his arms, looking down over Max's supine form, Jake licked his lips. How he ever thought of denying himself this, he didn't know. Max’s pale skin had a smattering of freckles over his shoulders and down his arms. His chest, which rose and fell quickly, was mostly bare, his stomach flat but not overly muscled. Below his navel, a sparse trail of dark hair led to a heavier thatch between his legs, upon which Max’s cock rested, already hard and thick, with a bead of precome glistening at the tip. Not as long as Jake's, but impressive in its own right. 

By the time Jake’s eyes roamed back up, there was a blush on Max’s cheeks that made Jake’s cock twitch. Fucking a cop was stupid dangerous, but this cop had wanton desperation coming out of every pore. His eyes looked up at Jake with that familiar fiery determination that Jake was beginning to find incredibly endearing. And now that Jake knew he was going to do this, he was having trouble deciding whether to fuck Max fast and hard, or go slow and savor this one time deal. 

One. Time. Deal.

-—–———

 

For how much and for how long Jake had resisted, once his lips crashed into Max’s, he seemed plenty eager. It was almost forceful, the way his hands held Max’s face, and Max loved it. Jake could have been anything and Max would have welcomed it, but somehow he knew it would be like this.

By the time they got to the bedroom, Max's lips were kiss-swollen and tingling. His head swam from the mass exodus of blood from his brain downward. He couldn't remember the last time he was this turned on. Probably never.

As their pants were tossed aside, Max drank in the sight of Jake’s body. Everything about him was long and lean and gorgeous. His cock was no exception, although it could hardly be described as lean. Max had imagined it would be impressive, but what he saw made his mouth go dry. 

_Christ._

Max swallowed thickly, but there was no time for contemplating how well-endowed Jake was, though no doubt Jake would be pleased to know how very thoroughly Max was falling apart over the very sight of him. Jake gave him a shove and Max fell back onto his elbows on the soft mattress. The predatory look in those wicked hazel eyes made Max's heart threaten to beat right out of his chest, and he wondered, finally, and just for a moment, if he'd made a mistake coming here. 

Jake was going to tear him apart. 

But, Max reminded himself, that’s what he /wanted/. He wanted to be so wrecked, so fucked out of his mind, he didn't have to think or worry about his job or about his life. It’s why Max pursued Jake, and it seemed that he wasn’t going to be disappointed. The look in Jake’s eyes told Max that’s exactly what he intended to do. 

Thank fuck he’d brought lube.

"Wait." Max’s hand on Jake's chest was enough to halt his momentum in an instant. Well, that's reassuring, Max thought as he retrieved the condom and lube from his pants pocket. Not that he could see himself saying no to Jake, not now, but it was nice to know he could.

Max was no Boy Scout, but he was damn glad he came prepared. 

Jake got over his surprise and quickly resumed his predator role, coming up between Max's legs, looming over him, then kissing him and forcing him backwards. Once the top of Max’s head hit the headboard and he could go no further, Jake pulled away to let them both breathe. 

For a moment, Jake's head ducked down, taking in Max's form, spread out below him. When he looked back up, his expression had softened. He shifted and lowered himself to rest on one arm at Max's side. His other trailed lightly, almost affectionately across Max's chest.

"You looked edible that night on the street. Even more so at the club. But right now, like this? You're fucking delectable."

Max smiled at the flattery, but that was not what he wanted. "You've already got me in your bed. You really don't need to sweet talk me anymore."

Jake flashed a grin, lip catching on his crooked tooth in a most charming way, and lifted his hand to trace a finger over Max's chin. "But I am gonna have to do something about that mouth. You talk too much"

"I can tell you a secret." Max leaned up, taking Jake's hand with him, to whisper. "I find it really hard to talk when I've got a cock up my ass." 

His goading worked. Jake growled and his fingers tightened on Max's chin, holding his face still as he claimed his lips in another bruising kiss. Max mewled under the renewed onslaught, his own hands clutching at whatever skin he could reach on Jake's back.

"Demanding little thing," Jake said in a low, gravelly voice, inches from Max's ear. "I ought to just flip you over, spread your legs and fuck you dry.” Max gulped at that, finding it a very credible threat. 

“You're lucky I don't particularly like making my lovers cry." Then, in a testament of skill that Max would likely question later, Jake grabbed the lube, popped the top and managed to slick his fingers with just one hand. 

Eyes wide, Max exhaled loudly. He'd have to be careful, he realized now. If he accidentally pushed this man too far, something told him he wouldn't be let off easy. 

Max trusted Jake. God knew why, but he did, and his legs fell open easily. Jake busied himself at Max's ear, nibbling and sucking at his lobe, sending shivers down Max's spine. The hand that trailed down his stomach moved much too slowly to not be deliberate, but just as Max opened his mouth to complain, Jake’s finger was there, rubbing insistent little circles around his opening. Max inhaled and his breath caught in anticipation. When one slicked finger slid in, the air trapped in his lungs came out in what could only be described as a squeak. 

Jake chuckled behind his ear and Max's cheeks reddened. 

"Damn, that's cute. What other sounds can you make?" 

Max would have retorted, but Jake made certain he couldn't by pushing his finger in further, all the way to the hilt. Stubbornly, Max bit back the noises that threatened to come out of his throat and held his breath, adjusting to the intrusion. This was nothing. One finger, Max reminded himself, just a preview to the real show. He’d better keep perspective. 

Partially to get himself reacquainted with what he had in store for him, partially to distract himself from Jake's fingers, and partially because he wanted to see Jake in a similar lust-crazed state, Max reached down to grip Jake's sizable erection. This earned him a groan and what was likely an unintentional cant of Jake's hips. 

He grinned smugly. Jake, not to be outdone, began to move his finger, slowly, but rhythmically in and out of Max's ass. 

“Fuck…” Max hissed. Then Jake added another finger, reducing Max to guttural noises. He worked methodically, driving Max more and more mad with every thrust of his fingers. Every so often, Jake would curl them up, sending white-hot shocks of pleasure through Max’s whole body, which shook briefly every time. He pretended not to hear Jake’s obvious amusement.

"Look at you. Three fingers up in you and you're already a wreck. I don't know if you can handle me." Despite the jibe, there was admiration in Jake's voice.

"You that sure of yourself..." Max panted, letting go of Jake's cock and propping himself up on his elbows to defend his honor. "Then why are you still fucking me with your fingers?"

“Why, indeed?”

Jake moved quickly, withdrawing his fingers and positioning himself between Max's legs. His eyes dark, his grin all teeth, Jake surveyed him, like a king overlooking his land. On full display, but unashamed, Max smirked back, hiding all his anticipation and apprehension behind it. 

"Delectable," Jake repeated as he rolled the condom over his shaft. Max simply watched, quiet this time. He’d been thinking the same thing about Jake. Then, despite Jake’s aggression, despite the brashness of his words, he surprised Max by taking a pillow and nudging it under his ass. Max lifted his hips and Jake slid it into place, but before Max could say anything in response to the unexpected compassion, Jake was over him once more, kissing the words right off his tongue. His arms hooked behind Max’s knees, pushing them up and spreading them wide. That glorious cock nudged at his ass, lined up perfectly with the pillow under him. 

With Jake’s tongue shoved so deep in his mouth, Max didn’t notice Jake's hand snaking between them and taking ahold of his cock. It wasn’t until the nudging became a deliberate push that Max realized what was happening, and then it was too late. The top of Jake's slick cock popped through Max’s ring of muscle, and before the moan had fully left Max's throat, Jake pushed forward, nearly all the way in with one firm thrust.

Max cried out. He hadn’t wanted to, he’d told himself he wouldn’t, but when Jake caught him off guard, there wasn’t anything he could do. It had been too long since he’d been taken like this, had more than one or two of his own fingers in his ass, and the breach was more pain than pleasure at first. Jake began immediately to move, not resting for even a second. Max gritted his teeth against it, refusing to shout again. Given no chance to breathe, to adjust, to collect his wits after losing them so completely, Max was powerless. Jake’s slickened shaft moved easily in shallow little thrusts that worked himself in deep and had Max clawing madly at his back.

Oh fuck! It was _perfect_. Pain had never been a big deterrent for Max, and that Jake didn’t coddle him or seek out his permission was exactly what he needed. What he craved. Jake filled him completely and moved purposely, but with no intention to hurt Max. Each roll of his hips was slow, controlled, and because of it, the pain subsided and Max’s pleasure spiked almost immediately.

“Nnnh, so fucking tight,” Jake growled, passion straining his voice as his pace increased. Max couldn’t reply. His head was thrown back into the pillows, neck muscles straining. If he’d opened his mouth, he would’ve been screaming. 

God, he hadn’t known it could be like this. It hadn’t ever been like this before. Max had only slept with a handful of men, but none of them had ever fucked him like this. Jake was powerful and everywhere all at once, over him, in him, breathing at his ear, tasting his mouth, assaulting and overwhelming every sense. He seemed to hit Max’s prostate with every thrust, as though precision fucking was his specialty. The intensity was unbearable, and Max wanted to howl with it.

"Let me hear you, Max." Jake's voice, husky and strained with arousal and exertion, lapped at Max's ear. "I want to hear you scream."

And Max did. Folded nearly in half, feet straight up in the air, Jake curled around him, fucking into him relentlessly, Max screamed. 

"Ah! Fuck! Ah, god, Jake!" Max cried, each word punctuated by the relentless snap of Jake's hips as he pounded into him. 

The first stirrings of orgasm had already begun to roil and now they heated dizzyingly fast in Max's belly. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, not at this rate. And if the increasingly frantic tone of Jake's growls and grunts was any indication, neither would he. 

Somehow, amidst the tangle of arms and legs that rocked constantly, Max managed to get one hand down between them, to his own woefully neglected cock. Precome leaked out profusely, smeared all over his stomach. Gathering some in his hand, Max began to stroke himself, attempting to match Jake's rhythm. He couldn't keep up, but he quickly realized that he didn't need to move his hand at all, for Jake's thrusts rocked him forward, fucking himself into his hand. 

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Max's breath came out in short, staccato moans that grew increasingly louder as Jake's thrusts grew even more erratic. Seconds later, Max's orgasm rushed over him, seizing control of his body. It traveled like lightning, all the way out to the tips of his fingers and toes. Pleasure short-circuited his brain, cutting off the air to his lungs, and culminating in the sharp pulses of his cock as he spilled his seed out over his hand onto his stomach. 

So caught up in the throes of his own climax, Max was only dimly aware of Jake's own gruff cry. He thrust in hard one last time before he stilled, shoulders trembling as he came, cock spasming deep inside Max. 

Jake released Max's legs and they fell to the bed gracelessly. His whole body felt boneless. Exhaustion flowed freely through his veins, aided by the satiation only a good fuck can provide. When Jake, mindful of the condom, pulled out and rolled off him, Max had yet to regain full capacity in his brain. Jake tossed some tissues at him, mumbling something about cleaning up, which he did as best he could, tossing the soiled tissues onto the nightstand. 

Max didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to sleep. Here. The whys of which would have to wait until later. 

Facing away from Jake, who would surely expect him to leave soon, Max snuggled up to the pillow, too sleepy and hot still to worry about the covers. The pillow smelled good. Like Jake. Max sighed happily.

“What are you doing, Max?”

“Sleeping. Shhhh.” 

Was that a groan? Max grinned, but didn’t respond. In the dark, Jake fell quiet too. 

Max hadn’t intended on spending the night, but then, he hadn’t really planned anything beyond getting Jake into bed. After that succeeded so beautifully, Max couldn’t be bothered with propriety. Jake stayed quiet for a while, and soon enough Max’s eyes drifted closed. As he teetered there, on the edge of sleep, he heard a sigh, then felt Jake curl up behind him, pulling the blanket up over them both. Wrapped in the warmth of Jake’s arms, with Jake’s body pressed up behind him, Max fell asleep in seconds.


End file.
